


Hey Jules

by letitmclennon



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Daddy John, Fluff, M/M, Nightmares, Oneshot, Parenthood, Sweet, Translation, uncle paul - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 04:19:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9367685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letitmclennon/pseuds/letitmclennon
Summary: It had to be certainly a monster.Yeah, that dark mass that was emitting a shrill sound, terribly annoying, it was nothing else than a monster, one of the usuals. John’s monsters.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. This is my very first oneshot. I wrote it in 2012 for the Italian archive. And from that moment I wrote something like 86 fanfictions about the Beatles. I hope I can translate all of them. :D  
> This is about John, Paul and little Julian and the song Hey Jude. I love Julian so much. :3  
> Hope you enjoy it. :)

It had to be certainly a monster.  
Yeah, that dark mass that was emitting a shrill sound, terribly annoying, it was nothing else than a monster, one of the usuals. John’s monsters.  
In the dream John was so little, he had to be very young. He was running along Menlove avenue, searching desperately for a refuge from the monster that wanted to eat him. No, it wanted first to daze him with those annoying noises, and then it would have eaten him in one single bite. But there was no repair for him, the doors were close in front of him, nobody wanted John Lennon, not even aunt Mimi.  
Then it had arrived, that marvellous sound that wanted to comfort him. Sweet and harmonious notes were spreading all around him and it seemed that they wanted to tell him that all was right and he didn’t have to be afraid. And a moment after that, the monster started to become quiter and then smaller. In the end it was so little that John could easily crush him with his little foot, but he knew that it won’t be useful, because it would have come back.  
That monster and the others.  
Monsters always came back.  
For John and nobody else.  
John slowly opened his eyes and found himself in his own bed. He was all sweaty, as he had run for twenty marathons. His heart was beating furiously in his chest. He leaned a hand where there was his heart, and he perfectly felt his skin quiver at every heartbeat. He had to calm down. But how?  
Oh yeah, thanks to him.  
But he wasn’t there.  
John turned around in the bed and stretched an arm in the other half, expecting to find his partner’s warmth ready to comfort him, as it did every time the monsters came back to him. Finding cold sheet, he totally woke up and sat on the bed, rubbing his eyes. He tried to focus what was around him, but in the end he was forced to get his glasses from the night table next to the bed. He looked around, wondering where Paul was, and as an answer he listened the sound of a piano from far away. It was a very soft sound, so soft that it seemed to come from afterlife, or better, from dreamland. Listening carefully, he figured out that it was the same melody that made the monster vanish. John recognized it immediately, because it made him feeling in the same relieved way. He knew it was thanks to Paul. It was always thanks to Paul after all.  
John sat leaning against the headboard. It wasn’t as Paul was next to him, but at least he was in John’s mind and for now it was enough, because when Paul was in his mind, John was safe and the monsters couldn’t catch him.  
The young man stretched a hand to the night table, searching for the only other thing that the monsters didn’t like: the sweetish smoke of a cigarette. But the pack was vanished.  
John snorted annoyed. This was Paul’s fault too.  
Determined to get back at him, John got up from the bed. The cold in the room made him shiver and for a moment he thought of getting back to the bed and saying goodbye to Paul and the cigarettes. But, damn, he didn’t want to go back to sleep without Paulie in his arms!  
_Stupid McCartney!_  
John went out of the room and proceeded towards downstairs. He climbed down the stairs, while the melody of the piano became brighter with every footstep he took. And the more John could listen to that melody, the more he questioned himself about what it was and where little Paulie took it.  
When he arrived in the room with the upright piano, he saw him there, sat on the black bench with crossed legs and bent over the ivory keys. Paul was moving his hands slowly, giving life to chords of such an incredible harmony: they were sweet and heart breaking in the same time. John rested on the door frame, crossing his arms, and kept staring at him. When Paul sat by the piano or took the guitar in his arms, everything was irresistible.  
And the sight of his back was irresistible in the same way. His muscles were perfectly following the movements of his arms. He loved that back and every moment was too good to touch it or just brush it, as he wanted to remind him that he belonged to John… always. Wherever he would have been, Paul was John’s.  
So lost he was in his thought, that John didn’t notice that Paul had stopped playing. The younger man took his left hand to his mouth, grabbed the cigarette with his long fingers and blew a little cloud of white smoke, that vanished immediately. Smiling to himself, John approached and wrapped his arms around Paul’s neck.  
“You think it’s the right thing to do? Disappearing from my bed in that way?”  
Paul bowed his head, leaning against John’s arm, and then smiled.  
“You know, John, when inspiration calls you, it’s impossible waiting for the morning.”  
“You know, Paulie, when you have my cigarettes, you must be careful not to go too far away from me.” John said and with a fast move he stole the cigarette from Paul, taking it to his lips.  
Paul burst into laughter, while his partner sat next to him.  
“Did I wake you up?”  
“No, not really.”  
Actually he saved him, John thought, crossing his legs. Then he stared the stave on the stand of the piano. There were scribbled some chords.  
“So, what’s that?”  
Paul blushed lightly, pressing a key randomly.  
“It’s just a thing that was swirling in my head tonight.”  
“Oh and this was before, after or… during the other little thing we did?”  
Paul looked at him to find his most lustful gaze, and smiled cheeky.  
“After, you daft. I was trying to sleep.” Paul said, and took the pencil near the stave.  
He made a little doodle on the paper and then he stared at the score, put the pencil between his lips and tilted his head.  
John looked at him with a frown: “What about the words?”  
Paul shook his head vigorously.  
“Oh, come on, you idiot!” John said and took the pencil from his lips.  
“I haven’t thought about it yet.” He answered shyly and bowed his head.  
“You really are the greatest idiot I’ve ever known, Paulie.” John said, giving him a little pat on the nape, “If you hadn’t had the right words yet, you wouldn’t have started to write.”  
Paul stared at him with a frown, but John couldn’t stop himself from smiling.  
“Yeah, well… it’s just that I’m not sure they work.”  
“If you didn’t show them to me, we would never know.”  
Paul sighed and brushed a key. John got closer to him and started to tease him with the pencil in his hear.  
“Come on, Paulie… my sweet, little beatle…”  
The younger man lifted his eyes to the ceiling and sighed again: “Oh, ok then. Anything to stop this torture.”  
John chuckled satisfied and then he tried to be serious in order to listen with every fiber of his being Paul’s new little thing.  
The hands of his partner moved above the keys, he closed his eyes and started to sing.  
_“Hey Jules, don't make it bad,_  
_Take a sad song and make it better,_  
_Remember, to let her into your heart,_  
_Then you can start to make it better. “_  
Paul stopped and looked to John, with trepidation. But John didn’t know what to say, except for it was simply perfect and… oh yeah, there was a word that impressed him more than anything else.  
“Jules?” John asked, staring at him curiously.  
“Jules.”  
“Jules, my son?”  
Paul nodded with a sigh: “Jules, your son.”  
“Did you write a song for my kid?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Why?”  
Paul blushed lightly and looked away.  
“It hasn’t always had to be a reason to write a song, don’t you know, John?”  
“Oh, ok.” John said, shrugging his shoulders.  
He didn’t say anything else and stared at Paul, whose eyes were fixed on the piano’s keyboard, as he had so much more to say, something that maybe John wouldn’t quite like. Paul seemed not to have the courage to say it. However John wasn’t a delusional…  
“It’s just that…”  
Because Paul always found the courage to face him, sooner or later, and John smiled to himself. He loved this part of Paul too.  
“Damn it, John! You and Cyn are splitting up. You guys are his parents. No matter how much you’ll try not to impress him, it’s something that will mark him forever, either you want it or not.”  
John nodded, fully understanding what Paul was trying to tell him, “So this song is to… comfort him?”  
“Sort of. You know, today I can’t help noticing that there was something strange about Jules. It was something in his eyes. Remember how chirpy were his eyes, huh, Johnny? How they looked everything around him with interest and curiosity? The curiosity only children have… But now it’s not so anymore. It’s perfectly clear. I know that you and Cyn didn’t have to stay together for him, but I’d like to do anything to help him. And so, why don’t write a song to tell him: Come on, Jules, your parents got divorced. I know you’re not happy, but you’ll be OK.'”  
John looked at him, smiling gently. Then he reached out, put a hand on Paul’s nape and drew him closer, letting their foreheads touch.  
“This is why I love you…” John said in a whisper and Paul giggled.  
John stayed like that for some time, enjoying that closeness, the sweet smile on Paul’s lips and that big, hazel eyes that looked at him with attention, the one that John had searched during all his life. He kissed the tip of his nose and rested his head on Paul’s shoulder.  
“Will you continue to play, Paulie? For me?” John asked.  
“I’m not sure how to go on.”  
“Yes, you are. – he replied, grabbing his right hand and putting it on the piano’s keyboards – Come on, Paul. It’s a song for my boy, I have to know what his little, innocent ears will hear.”  
Paul snorted: “You can be very irritating sometimes, you know that, Johnny?”  
John let his arm slip around Paul’s sides and held him tight: “And that’s why you love me.”  
Paul sighed and with that he just wanted to say that John was right and was bloody right.  
So Paul kept on playing and John closed his eyes, relishing that tiny moment of music and intimacy. With Paul’s musky scent that was teasing pleasantly his sense of smell and those words and melody that had conquered him from the very first moment.  
_“So let it out and let it in_  
_Hey Jules begin,_  
_You're waiting for someone to perform with._  
_And don't you know that it's just you._  
_Hey Jules, you'll do,_  
_The movement you need is on your shoulder.”_  
Suddenly John raised his head: “Hey… I like this one.”  
Paul stopped and looked at him curiously: “Which one?”  
“The movement you need is on your shoulder.”  
“Really? – Paul asked surprised – Truth is that I wanted to change it, I just needed it to remember the melody.”  
“You don’t have to change it. It’s the best part.”  
Paul smiled, clearly satisfied from John’s approval.  
“Actually, we should write it down before we forget it.” John said and, as he took paper and pen, he started to write the words, while Paul was busy with the melody.  
John’s heart calmed down and slowly returned to a regular pulse. And how cannot be so in that situation? Composing was his life and composing with Paul made his life better. Right now it was exactly what made him feel better and he couldn’t help it.  
“Dad?” A tiny little voice said.  
John and Paul turned in the same moment and saw little Julian standing behind them, rubbing his eyes and holding his favorite teddy bear with the other hand.  
“Hey, Jules!” John said, winking to Paul, “What’s up, honey?”  
The kid got closer to the men, “I can’t sleep.”  
“Oh no. And why is that?” John asked, lifting him up and placing him on his legs.  
Paul looked at John, while he was hugging him and holding him tenderly.  
“Because there are monsters in my room.” Julian answered with a frown.  
John’s heart skipped a beat: the monsters, those bloody monsters. Paul was right, while he didn’t notice anything and hated himself for that. He stared at Paul, but didn’t see any sign of blame in his eyes. There was only comprehension.  
“Monsters? Oh boy, it’s terrible, I can see why you can’t sleep. But I’ll tell you one thing, Jules.”  
The kid looked up to his father and John could see himself in his blue eyes, that couldn’t hide the worry for those monsters that weren’t in his room, but in his own heart and would have been there for all his life. Just like the monsters that even John was hiding in his heart for all his life. Only music could calm them down. Or Paul. And Paul’s song was exactly what he and Julian needed.  
So he put a hand on Julian’s head and smiled at him: “You’re a lucky boy, Jules, you know? It’s the perfect night for monster’s hunt.”  
“Why?” he asked, becoming more enthusiastic.  
“Because… wait a moment, it’s a secret. You promise you won’t tell anybody?” John asked him and looked at him with understanding.  
Julian nodded with a smile: “Promise!”  
“Very well, then. You have to know, Jules, that uncle Paulie has just written a shoo-monster song.”  
“A shoo-monser song?! I don’t believe it.”  
“How can you not?” John said, indignant.  
“Shoo-monster songs don’t exist, you’re making it up.” The kid protested.  
“Ah, Jules, I really didn’t expect this from you! – John said, shaking his head - Uncle Paulie, please, will you tell something to this little boy?”  
“Of course! Jules, shoo-monster songs do really exist and, if you don’t believe me, I’ll show you immediately.”  
Paul put his hand on the piano’s keyboard and looked at him.  
“Promise me you’ll listen very carefully, because otherwise it won’t work, ok?” Paul told him with a wink.  
Julian nodded firmly: “Ok!”  
For the second time in very few minutes John could listen to that song again, “Hey Jules”.  
Hey Jules… Maybe the title didn’t work very well, they should have changed it. But for now it was perfect exactly how Paul had thought it.  
Julian listened to the song very carefully and for magic, Paul’s magic, the kid leaned back to his father’s chest, then his eyes started to close, even if he was doing everything to stay awake. John cradled him tenderly to induce sleeping, and when his head fell on John’s arm, he understood that Julian was back to dreamland and the monsters were gone. At least for now.  
A new monster appeared that evening in John’s heart. The awareness to have taken those fears even in his son’s heart, when, as a parent, he should have pushed them away. Paul was right, Julian would never have been the same child.  
And from that moment, John intended to do anything he could to make his son feel better. But he couldn’t do this all alone.  
John leaned his head on Paul’s shoulder and closed his eyes. He needed him, now more than ever, he needed him and his magic.  
Sooner or later Paul should have explained what he had so special to do that magic even with John. But for now John would have been satisfied with that song, written for Julian, but maybe written a little bit for him too. Because nobody knew his monsters better than himself. Or better than Paul.  
“John?” Paul called him.  
“Mm?”  
“I can take Julian to bed, but don’t think I’d do the same for you.”  
“Paul?”  
“Mm?”  
“You’re a monster!”


End file.
